Thursday, July 03, 2008

Yard Work

I'm on a tear, trying to get my wild and weedy yard under control: mowing, burning, clearing, collecting junk and so on. Everyone must contribute to this madness, no matter how, young, adolescent, or middle-aged they are, so when I'm like this, I'm not very popular around the house.

It's no different this time, but the reason behind it is at least new.

Today I sent the older boys outside to clear an overgrown flowerbed on one end of the house (the result of being too busy to deal with it while I was working). It will be a perfect place to plant the irises I'm going to steal in the fall from the abandoned property down at the corner (My mother planted them years ago when she was renting the place and I don't think anyone will miss a few bulbs in a yard with six foot high grass) . But first it meant pulling weeds and brush and digging up a couple of very small volunteer trees.

Sam, my youngest, was genuinely disturbed by the destruction of nature--especially the trees. I explained to him that I was planning to plant irises and herbs in the bed, but that didn't satisfy him. Then I explained that the trees, if left in place, would destroy the foundations of the house. But this didn't matter either. He nodded, but did a stiff about face and walked away, straight-backed and erect, face averted. I know that stride. It says, "I'm in near-tears, but I'm not going to let you see it." He's been this way since he was two years old.

Later, his father came in, grinning widely, and said "my youngest" (implying that it had to come from my side of the family, certainly not his) had asked him for a shovel, stating that he wanted to replant them. He'd prefaced his request with, "Dad, I'm not a hippie or anything, but I just don't see the point in letting perfectly good trees die." Gary helped him dig the holes and plant them.

4 comments:

We recently moved from the Northeast (where the trees are magnificent - tall with broad leaves that rustle wonderfully in the breeze) to San Antonio (where in our part of town the trees are more stunted, with small leaves that [sadly] never make that rustling sound). Bravo to your youngest!

Hi rhubarb! Yes indeedy, he did. Now we just have to wait and see if they will grow or not.

Andrew, I spent part of my childhood in Texas (I live in the rural Ozarks now). I'm somewhat familiar with the San Antonio area. I would miss my trees a great deal. The funny thing, it's generally me protecting them from a husband who would like to have a front lawn (who needs more grass to mow?). I garden organically, and we keep multiple rescued pets so he comes by it honestly enough. It's just so charming to see him so impassioned about it.

Author of Sing

He could hear them, owl, rats, cats, foxes and woman, winged child breathing. All of them soulless husks. Yes.That was what he meant.Soulless. Sleep was an absence of soul, a light out in the attic and nobody home. He knew--death entered a little more with each dawn, just before the waking.Crept in so's nobody'd notice it, catch it and stop it. Not bold, death--but a weasel prowling. It took its time, but it came in all the same.